by Josh Collins
“As for the medic skills,” she started again, “I went to a medical academy and received my degree, but something went wrong with my citizenship, and they revoked my license. So, I started cutting up dead people for a living instead.” Burns gave a solemn sigh back to her, understanding all of the struggles.
“How did you end up here?” he asked.
“Intelligence came knocking, said I could be a doctor if I lent a hand,” she told him. He could understand that. It was just a shame that going through this mess was the only way she could get a job she worked so hard for.
Returning to her work, Carmen finally dug the knife into his wound and widened it. Burns clenched his jaw as she cut away. He forgot how much this part hurt. Several times he had to ward off unconsciousness by distracting his mind. That part was hard on a desolate planet like Silverset. Luckily, Carmen knew he’d be looking for an escape and kept talking.
“This is personal too,” she mentioned as she grabbed her tweezers from the medic bag and dug them into the wound, fishing for the bullet. “I know just how far these Isolationist monsters will go to get what they want. Daddy told me everything about his time in the resistance, even the bad stuff.” These had to be bad memories, yet she seemed to perk up a little. As she pulled the tweezers out, he realized that she’d found the bullet. She dropped it into her hand and held it up.
“Here’s your prize,” she murmured as she placed it on the table. She then grabbed the rest of the torn drape and wrapped it around his chest, making it as tight as possible. The wound was feeling a lot better. Burns was really glad that she’d crossed paths with him. Otherwise, he might not have been alive right now.
“Thanks,” he said. She shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s nothing,” she replied as she tied the torn drape together. Burns nodded to her, feeling like he owed her something for her troubles.
“You know,” he murmured, “I’ve seen a lot of terrorists, and you aren’t one of them, Carmen. The Dominion had no right to take away your doctor’s license.” She gave him an unsure look and then continued with her work.
Checking to make sure the gloss was going away, she stared right into his eyes. At first, it was impersonal and professional, but then something strange happened, and the two became caught in each other’s gazes. Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment—he was injured, and she’d been sitting so close and saving his life—but they couldn’t look away. He noticed her eyes were nice. They were dark, and he could see just how much pain was in her past. Yet that didn’t shy him away. He shared a dark past, and he knew what it was like to be viewed as a monster. People like them, they needed someone to see past the black gaze and realize that, below all the obscurity, they were good people. In this moment, Burns was seeing that in Carmen—in these eyes that gleamed like the stars. She needed a friend, just like he did.
Then, suddenly, the moment was over. She began blinking rapidly and looked away. He swallowed, starting to feel a little embarrassed for looking at her that way. She scooted the chair away and stood to organize her supplies.
“You’re all patched up, Colonel. You’ll probably be passing out in a few minutes though, so you should probably lie down,” she suggested with a slight croak in her voice. He acknowledged her suggestion and shifted in his seat, making sure to not make eye contact. The previous moment was weird enough as is.
Within seconds though, she’d headed back outside. Feeling relieved to have the room to himself, he took a deep breath and looked down at his wound.
What did I get myself into, he wondered.
It was soon after that that the promised unconsciousness overtook him.
FRACTURED PAST: PART III
Fort Hermara, Mardius, 20 years and 1 standard month prior
Burns hadn’t seen Evelyn for the majority of the month. She came only for the necessary therapy, and even then, they didn’t talk much. She didn’t want to risk further exposure to her feelings. It seemed clinical, but he actually felt bad for her. He may have had a rough relationship with his father, but he knew she had it worse with hers. Apparently, the man was such a ruthless businessman that he sacrificed everything for power. She wanted so badly to be the opposite of him, to fix the suffering he created, that she became tethered to righteousness. Even if she wished to divert, she could not. She was actually willing to be court-martialed for doing her job, instead of fighting it to be with Burns.
An unstoppable smile then appeared on Burns’ face. It was stuff like this that made him fall for her. Her level of selflessness was absolutely the craziest thing he’d seen in his time.
His smile then started to fade as he realized he’d probably never see her again after he left Mardius. He really did begin to wonder if he’d ever find anyone like her again, or if he was always doomed to be alone.
These thoughts managed to erase any happiness he felt and replace it with anger. Perhaps her selflessness was a bit selfish in its own right. Certainly he didn’t deserve this.
All wasn’t doom and gloom though. The Mardius Resistance had nearly been rooted out. The Loyalists had pulled through, and a planet-wide peace was in negotiation. Soon the interplanetary shuttles would be cleared for departure. This meant he could finally get off this war-torn mud-ball and get a decent meal.
He was discharged by the Major on injury concerns, so he was a free man once again. Though, he didn’t dare to descend into the capital until his departure day neared. The planet had just endured a violent war, and the capital was still dangerous. He preferred to stay near the fort. The sights from atop the outer wall were enough for now.
As the sun lowered, he watched in lonesome silence. It was amazing to see a sunset when the planet was as close to its sun as Mardius was.
The large, orange sphere had descended behind the rocky outcroppings, which had all become darkened shadows. The sky had become illuminated in a dark-orange color, and the thick clouds sat softly in the sky. It was beautiful, and it seemed to last forever. Indeed, Mardius rotation was a bit slower than most planets, so the days were longer.
Burns then heard the sound of someone approaching from behind. He excitedly turned, expecting to see Eve, but he quickly noticed that the approaching person was man. He sighed as his jubilation flatlined once more.
As the man got closer, the lowering sun began to illuminate his features. He was wearing tactical pants and body armor and was bald. Burns knew him as the Loyalist spy, Jonathon Gambi.
“Gambi,” Burns greeted. The dark-featured man nodded and gave Burns a handshake.
“It’s good to see you off your sick bed,” he returned, face glowing in the sunset.
Burns bowed his head slightly, concurring. “I heard that your mission was a success. Over twenty-five IED’s disarmed and apprehended,” he recounted. Gambi slightly smiled.
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. To thank you,” he admitted kindly.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Burns shrugged.
“No,” Gambi insisted, “because of you, this is the last sunset of a war-torn Mardius,” he mentioned, looking out into the distance. “When the sun rises next, we will be free of occupation.” Burns slightly chuckled as he turned toward the man.
“You know, some consider this the beginning of a new occupation,” he joked, referencing some Isolationists’ belief that the Dominion’s constant expansion was akin to oppression. Gambi chuckled and patted Burns’ back.
“Frame of reference will get you,” he agreed, turning away from the looming sunset. “I wish you the best,” he acknowledged, beginning to trek back to the fort.
Burns nodded silently at him and looked toward the sun. He doubted he’d ever see that man again either. A lot was going to change once he left Mardius. It was almost a bit intimidating. Though also admittedly a little pathetic. He’d survived being shot, but civilian life scared him? He chuckled a little at his own expense.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Burns then heard Gambi exclaim from behind. He looked ba
ck as the man pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a flat object, but it was wrapped in some sort of rough paper. He handed it to Burns.
“What is it?” Burns asked. Gambi smirked as he turned around again.
“A delivery,” he let on, slipping away into the darkness once more.
Burns shook his head at the vague answer and then began to unwrap the package. As he pulled the paper back, his eyes opened wide. It was a picture of Evelyn. Her military portrait. His heart soared—he now had something to remember her by. He then felt something else underneath the picture. It was a slip of paper. It seemed to be a note. He unfolded it and read what was inscribed.
If you receive this before I leave, come to the cells. If not, then I hope the photo will do.
It was a message from Evelyn. She seemed to have changed her mind.
Pocketing both the photo and the note, Burns looked at the lowering sun with a smile. Perhaps all was not lost.
Taking a deep breath, he descended into the fort and promptly headed to Evelyn’s cell. He was excited to talk to her again, but he was feeling a little nervous.
However, approaching her cell in the abandoned prison, he quickly noticed it was vacant like the others. They’d taken her off-world to her tribunal, ahead of schedule too.
He let out a hollow sigh as he rested his head on the bars. He had missed his last chance, and he’d probably never see her again. The one shot he’d had at happiness, and it had slipped by in an instant.
He really wanted off-planet now. There was nothing left to sustain him. Departure day couldn’t come soon enough. Taking one more deep sigh, he turned around and began to head out of prison.
Only, standing in his way was Evelyn Wescott. She smiled, but he couldn’t muster any expressions. He was shocked. What had happened?
“Why?” he suddenly blurted out, wondering so much about her change in demeanor.
“Because you’re right,” she answered, moving forward and kissing him. The action caused shivers to run down his spine, and he suddenly had an urge to thank the militant bastard that had shot him in the chest. If it weren’t for him, he’d not have crossed paths with Eve. None of these wonderful feelings would be occurring.
She then pulled away for a second, and Burns all of a sudden felt awkward having his hands on her hips like he did. He moved his hands to the side, but she grabbed them. He looked down at her, and she looked up at him.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” he asked.
“For standing up to me. I know I can be stubborn, but I needed to see it your way. What’s the point of not making exceptions if you end up just as heartless as the rest?” she explained.
“Just returning the favor—you did save me from death,” he joked. She chuckled a little bit as he lowered his head, and they kissed again.
They continued on throughout the night. Both had transport tickets off-world, but neither of them cared. They’d just figured out the next step, and they didn’t need a transport to take them to it. They were already there.
DAYBREAK
Carmen burst into the warm cabin from outside, causing a flurry of frozen snow to jar Burns awake. He grumbled and growled as the various pains began to swell again. Carmen was unperturbed by Burns’ agonized state and approached him rapidly, ULC comm device in hand.
“I have a message, Colonel,” she informed him.
“What is it?” he asked, still with a bit of grumble in his voice.
“It’s about Rhett and Brosi,” she let on. Like a morning’s tea, the news stirred him wide-awake.
“Did they get the cannon offline?” he asked eagerly, vaguely envisioning the Western Duchess landing to take them off this desolate world.
“Not quite,” Carmen murmured, killing Burns’ excitement.
“Oh?” he questioned, the moment’s vision now something frustratingly unattainable.
“They’re still alive though—at least I think,” she went on, moving to the other side of the table.
“You think?” Burns asked for clarification.
“The militant on the line was speaking in one of the Shadowland dialects. My skills are rusty,” she explained.
“So, what did you catch?” Burns asked.
“‘The Reapers, that’s for sure. They found the Reapers and they needed the…Lobitars. That’s the part I don’t understand.” Burns felt a surge of uneasiness come over him.
“They’re calling for Lobitar Bloodhounds,” he grumbled. “They’re scent dogs. Used for tracking. They must have found the others, and now they’re hunting them,” he explained.
“If they split off and come for us, we can take them,” she ensured confidently.
“Maybe,” Burns murmured as he slowly stood from his seat, “but if they want to find us, no tracking will be necessary.”
“What do you mean?” she asked as she watched him loosely strap on his chest armor and make his way to the front door.
“We’re gonna be going after Rhett and Brosi too,” he clarified, pushing open the door and stepping into the cold.
“Sounds like a terrible plan,” she stated.
“I don’t care about statistics or strategies, Carmen,” Burns nagged. “If Brosi goes, mission over.” She gave him a slight smirk.
“Just because it’s terrible doesn’t mean I don’t like it,” she clarified playfully. “I think I saw a cargo truck in back. It’ll probably make the trip faster,” she informed him. Burns silently nodded to her, heading to the back.
Stepping out of the home, they trudged through the frigid, windy snowstorm that had blown in during the night. Though, Carmen was right. Burns did see an old, rusty cargo truck sitting outside. Though the odds of it actually starting up seemed slim.
Pulling open the frozen doors, Burns jumped into the truck. The key was already kept inside the ignition.
Taking a deep breath and calling on whatever luck he had left, Burns turned the key.
At first, nothing. Not even a whimper. He removed his hand from the key and repeated his process from before.
Taking another deep breath, he grabbed the key again and turned it. This time the truck howled into existence. Even though it sputtered like Lagona, he was happy to hear it come to life. It was the perfect vehicle for the job—they couldn’t have been luckier. It was a transport truck, which meant its covered bed was normally used to transport workers to the mines. It would work perfectly to extract Rhett and Brosi.
As Carmen’s display linked with his and the Lobitar rendezvous location marked itself on his map, he realized they still had over twenty miles to go. Carmen soon got settled in the passenger’s seat with all her supplies, and they set off.
The dreary miles trudged on after that, the ice and snowdrifts causing them to stop and have to push every so often. It was brutal, but the pushing wasn’t the worst that it got.
At one point, they stopped within the boundaries of another village. It was very similar to the place Burns had liberated, except he was too late to save those that lived here. Carmen called this place “the village of the dead.” It was. Everyone—even children—had been slaughtered by the Collective. All because they were Dominion citizens. Both Burns and Carmen knew the Dominion could be intolerant bullies, but it was trying to get better. The accords proved that. Though, the Collective didn’t seem to care. They only wanted vengeance for deeds done by men long dead.
Despite the gruesome images and the faulty vehicle, the two pressed on. Eventually the night was chased away by the rising of the sun.
Dawn was still dark, but the extra, orange light rising from behind the frosted giants gave Burns a smidgen of hope.
The rising sun had also cast a new light into the cabin of the truck. Burns could vaguely see Carmen in the seat nearby. He knew who she was now—she was an Isolationist girl trudged down by the bureaucracy and bigotry of Dominion society. Yet she didn’t seem to look this part. The light only partially ca
scaded onto her focused face, leaving dramatic shadows across her cheeks and completely hiding her eyes behind a blackened shade. She looked menacing, and not at all like a civilian.
Though Burns assumed that that was helped by the fact that she was carrying a fully loaded rifle and was ready to fire the moment a Collective militant came into view. She was steely focused, that was all. He would be wise to remember that she had saved him. She was a good person. The biggest monster here was himself.
Approaching an icy hill, Burns really had to juice the truck to make it to the top. It squealed like he was slowly killing it, but he pressed on nonetheless. It was only after they had made it to the top and he’d taken his foot off the gas that Burns realized his helmet was beeping at him.
They had reached their mark, which was made even more evident by the colossal cannon standing ominously below. This was it—they had reached the original target.
There was no ULC in sight. If the Lobitars had rendezvoused here, they must have already left.
Burns considered storming the cannon, but without Brosi, he doubted they could get it offline.
“Let’s go!” Carmen blurted, jumping out of the truck and running across the whitened hill.
“Wait,” Burns murmured, mostly to himself. It was useless to give her orders.
Pushing open his door, he slid out of the truck painfully and then followed her. It wasn’t far. She had stopped and lowered to kneel. Burns was glad that she wasn’t planning on entering the cannon. Still, he thought it best to give her a warning.
“We’ve got to be careful; the place could be crawling with Collective!” he advised her.